Budapest
by fornwalt
Summary: After a routine mission goes wrong, Clint and Natasha have to escape the clutches of HYDRA before a set of nuclear missiles go live. Set before the Avengers movie. Clint x Natasha. DISCONTINUED-see author note.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Because everyone mentions Budapest with this couple, but no one seems to have written a fic for it yet. So, here's my stab at... wait for it... What Happened in Budapest. Dum dum duuuum.

:D

* * *

**Budapest**

**Chapter 1**

When Clint strolled into the briefing, he was fifteen minutes late and had a smear of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Natasha did a double-take and barely refrained from rolling her eyes. This was getting ridiculous.

He took a seat and leaned back in his chair as Fury folded his arms, "So nice of you to join us, Agent Barton."

"Nice to be here," he replied amiably, smirking. Natasha felt her irritation grow. She was happy he had a girlfriend, but there was a time and place.

Fury shook his head in disapproval, but wisely decided to move on with the briefing. He tapped the screen behind him, and a large picture of an old warehouse appeared. "This is Budapest."

"It's changed since I was last there," Clint said, glancing at Natasha in amusement. She didn't return his humor. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and scratched the corner of her lip. He blinked and felt the spot, glancing at the lipstick on his finger. He wiped the rest off and turned back to Fury, who was looking at them gravely.

"This is no laughing matter, agents," he said, even though Natasha hadn't uttered a word. "What we have here is a potential nuclear crisis. We need to ensure that we won't have to take extreme measures to prevent war."

"What are we looking for?" Natasha asked, leaning against the conference table.

Fury turned back to the screen and tapped a few more times, showing grainy footage of long, cylindrical tubes. Clint straightened, brows furrowing. Natasha understood his concern; those were early-stage nuclear bombs. If this intel was accurate, there could be a big problem.

"We captured these images two days ago, in the shipyard by Petroleum Street, District 21 of Budapest. They were moved inside shortly after. Now we need you two to infiltrate the warehouse by any means necessary and confirm these weapons," Fury said.

Clint nodded shortly, lips pursed in a thin line. Finally, he was taking this seriously. "How are we getting there?"

"I have a plane ready and waiting. Pack your things and report up top," Director Fury handed each of the agents a folder thick with extra information. Clint flipped his open and started scanning the contents, but Natasha didn't move towards hers.

"And if they are nuclear weapons?" she asked, frowning.

Fury stopped short of the door and glanced at them again, his tone grim, "Those weapons cannot be used against the general public. Do what you do best." Without another word, he strode from the room.

Clint rotated his shoulder, stretching his arms as if preparing for a sparring match, "How should we infiltrate?"

Natasha opened her folder and skimmed the first page, her eye catching the proposed enemy—_Paradigma_. She snorted. A paradigm was a model, an example. They probably thought they were quite clever.

"We need to check their security, but time isn't exactly on our side," she said carefully, considering the intel before her with a practiced eye.

"In-And-Out, you think?"

"Maybe. Or a General's Daughter."

"Nice," Clint smirked, and this time she returned the expression. He slid his folder under his arm and headed towards the door. "All right. Let's go to Budapest."

* * *

A/N: This will be a multi-chapter fic (obviously). I'm trying my hand at suspense, so you all should let me know how I do. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Budapest  
**

**Chapter 2**

The plane dipped low over the Hungarian countryside. The rain was heavy and the midday sky was dark, and though the water hit the plane like bullets, neither agent could deny that this weather was quite favorable for their mission. Natasha strapped on a S.H.I.E.L.D. issued parachute as the pilot slowed the aircraft.

"The reflective panels are in effect, and with this thunder no one should hear us coming," the pilot called to them. "When the mission is completed, radio Director Fury."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint waved a hand and rolled his eyes at Natasha. "Do we have to do this every time?"

"You have a better way to get into the city?" she raised an eyebrow.

"How about a train? A bus? Hell, even a commercial plane wouldn't be bad," he said, shouldering his own parachute. "This just feels like overkill. I mean, anyone looking at the sky at the wrong moment will see us."

She shrugged and moved to the loading bay, "We're on time constraints. You heard—"

That's when something slammed into the jet, sending it careening to the left in a tight spin. Natasha and Clint went flying, and the pilot screamed as he tried to right the aircraft. When it finally leveled out, Clint hauled himself up and sprinted to the cockpit, dropping into the co-pilot seat. "Give me the controls!"

"But I—"

"Now!" Clint snapped, and the pilot let him fly the plane.

Natasha groaned and hooked her arm around the pilot's jumpseat, scanning the window for the threat, "What happened? I thought we were cloaked!"

"We were," the pilot insisted.

Clint gritted his teeth and struggled to keep the jet steady through their rapid descent, "Worry about that later. Natasha, get strapped in." She backed away and dropped into the nearby seat, stripping her parachute in favor of a safety harness. She realized a second late that Clint didn't have any kind of harness on either.

"Seatbelt, Clint!" she yelled over the cacophony of "warning" and "engine failure."

He pulled his on the best he could with one hand, but they slammed into the ground before he could finish. The plane bounced once, twice, and smashed into the base of a large tree. She heard a hissing as the engines cut off and blinked to clear her vision. Smoke billowed into the plane.

"Clint," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt with shaking hands. He didn't reply. She staggered over to him, but he was hunched over the controls, still. "Clint," she repeated loudly, frantically.

He groaned. She sighed in relief and turned to the pilot, shaking his shoulder. His head dropped to the side, and she'd broken enough necks to recognize the injury. She checked his breathing just to be sure, but the pilot was gone.

Clint was starting to come to now, and she moved to pull away his tangled harness. Her left hand wouldn't move properly, and she stared at it in confusion for a moment. _Oh_, her muddled brain said. _Broken wrist._

"Tasha?" Clint mumbled, and she returned her attention to him.

"Here," she said. "The pilot's dead. We have to leave. Someone's going to be investigating this crash."

He nodded and blinked hard, but his blue eyes cleared somewhat and he let her pull him from his seat. They stumbled to the loading bay, him leaning heavily on her, but the door wasn't opening. She muttered a curse and said, "The power's gone. We'll have to get out manually."

"How?" he rubbed his temples with a hand and coughed. The smoke was really filling the place now.

Natasha scanned their arsenal and grabbed his bow with her good hand, "Explosive arrow?"

He looked at her incredulously and replied, "That's a stupid idea."

"It's all I got."

So he took the bow and slid his quiver over his back and pulled out an arrow and aimed at the large door. She dutifully stepped back, absently cradling her broken wrist. He fired. The resulting explosion sent debris at her—that would leave a bruise—and threw him against the wall.

He didn't get back up.

"Clint," she coughed, her voice rasping from the smoke. He was right; that had been a stupid idea. It had worked, of course—she could see the soggy grass through the hole in the back of the plane—but now the jet creaked and moaned and threatened to collapse, and her partner wasn't moving.

He was breathing, though, so she hooked her arms under his and began dragging him. Her wrist flopped uselessly, and she knew the pain would come later, once the adrenaline wore off, but she couldn't think about that now. She nearly pulled him right past his bow but had the sense to stop and retrieve that. She hooked it over her chest and, with the strength of unparalleled fear, hauled him out of the plane.

The Hungarian countryside was wet. That was the only mercy this day had offered; Clint's dead weight slipped across the mud, and she was able to keep a fairly steady pace. When she couldn't pull him anymore, she leaned him against a nearby tree and took his quiver, hooking a deadly tip to an arrow shaft like she'd seen him do hundreds of times.

She slipped close enough to the wreckage to thrust the arrow into the metal hull, right along the gas tank. Then she moved a safe distance away and pressed the button on Clint's bow.

The plane exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Budapest**

**Chapter 3**

Ears ringing, she watched the fireball consume the aircraft. Good. S.H.I.E.L.D. had drilled this into her mind: leave no trace of their organization behind. It was secret for a reason.

She walked back to Clint, knelt, and patted his cheek, "Come on, Hawkeye. Open your eyes. We can't stay here." When he still didn't respond, she scanned him for some kind of injury, feeling cold at the idea. She didn't have a radio to call Fury, and they were obviously in hostile airspace. The medkit was in the burning plane. They were alone.

She felt the back of his head and frowned. Blood. She'd know that slippery substance anywhere. Her stomach clenched. This could be serious. And to make matters worse, pain was starting to seep into her wrist, piercing the skin in ever-intensifying waves.

"Clint, if there was ever a time to show me those baby blues, now's it," she said somewhat frantically, gripping his arm. His bow lay forgotten at her side.

"Please," she whispered desperately.

And thank God, he heard. Make that _two_ mercies for the day—the rain and his outstanding ability to open his eyes.

He shifted, though it took another few moments for him to mumble, "'m awake." She scooted away to give him some breathing room. "Told you that was a—" he groaned and clenched his eyes shut, "—a stupid idea."

"It worked," she said. This was familiar. If he could joke, he'd be fine. She ignored his blood on her fingers. It was already washing away in the rain.

But instead of retorting with something clever, he reached back and cringed when he felt the knot on his head. "Damn," he breathed when the pain subsided. He blinked a few times at her. "Nat, I'm seeing double."

"You're okay," she replied, because she didn't quite know what they'd do if he wasn't. She could hear a chopper in the distance and wondered if it was a friendly. The odds of that in this foreign country were slim to none, so she shouldered his bow again and took hold of his arm.

"We have to leave, Clint."

He tried to climb to his feet, but the second he was upright, he pitched sideways and not even Natasha could catch him. She rolled him onto his back, noticing that he was a lot paler now. He drew deep breaths and swallowed hard.

"Let's not… try that again," he gasped.

The helicopter was getting closer. Natasha forced herself to stay calm, stay focused, run through options. Her eyes flickered to the plane wreckage, to the sparse trees of the rolling countryside, and back to her incapacitated partner. The rain wasn't that concealing. Even if he could run, she didn't know where they'd hide.

With that realization, she let out a slow breath and sat beside him. He opened his eyes again, and she knew he heard the chopper too. "You have to get out of here," he said.

"We're a team," she replied, slipping his bow from her shoulders. The men would come with guns and Clint couldn't exactly fight them in this condition. She could take a few out, but not well with a broken wrist, and not without getting riddled with bullets. So she dropped the weapon and leaned against Clint's side.

He tried to push himself into a sitting position and failed miserably. As he dropped to the ground again, he said, "Please, Tasha. I'll be okay."

"I know," she told him, and looked up to watch the helicopter land.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! You really make my day. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: From what I've read, the suspense genre prides itself on revealing motives from all angles, not just the main characters. So, I'll diverge from Clint and Natasha on occasion to explore the bad guys and SHIELD.

Thanks for your support in this learning endeavor, and as always, feedback is appreciated! :)

* * *

**Budapest**

**Chapter 4**

"I got it," Andor said proudly, pushing away from his chair to address the Commander. The stoic man nodded once, and Andor felt smug. First week on the job, and he was already annihilating S.H.I.E.L.D. scum. He kept his tone level, though. No need to sound cocky just yet. "The craft crashed eighteen klicks southeast."

The Commander studied the screens for a moment, then turned towards Captain Nemes. "Take a team to investigate. If they survived, I want them in captivity."

"Yes sir," Captain Nemes saluted.

Andor straightened, "Sir, if I may, I'd like to aid in securing the prisoners."

The two men rounded on him. He was a lowly soldier, only stationed in the base's command center due to a fluke in Human Resources. Still, no one had noticed the mistake, and he'd performed adequately to avoid attention. Everyone knew the command center was a gateway to higher rank.

An even faster track to a promotion was getting good with Captain Nemes, the Commander's right-hand man. This could be his chance. Despite their challenging gazes, he kept his face smooth, held his own until Captain Nemes rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Get to the air strip."

Andor barely managed to keep the smirk off his lips. He could feel the jealous gazes of the other soldiers as he strode from the command center. That's how things worked here—you wanted something, you had to _take_ it. Use force if necessary. The career was worth anything.

He grabbed a gun and reported to the helipad, where a chopper was already warming up. Captain Nemes was nowhere to be seen, but the soldier waiting by the machine narrowed his eyes. "By all means, take your time," he shouted in irritation. "It's on you if we miss the targets!"

Andor frowned and sprinted the remaining distance to the chopper. He leapt in and noticed Captain Nemes already ordering the pilots, and the moment Andor had taken a seat, the helicopter lifted. The base was underground, but the chopper flew down a large tunnel and emerged into heavy rainfall. The massive bay doors slid closed behind them, closing off the base to trespassers.

"Who the hell are you?" the soldier who'd yelled at him snapped once they were in the air.

Andor straightened and was about to tell him, but Captain Nemes replied first, "He's new meat. He'll go out first and see if the hostiles are armed."

Oh. Andor swallowed hard. He hadn't thought about that. He wasn't even wearing a protective vest, and from what he'd heard, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were a force to be reckoned with. The older soldier grinned sadistically and patted his shoulder.

"Welcome aboard. Don't get comfortable," he said, in a way that implied _you won't be here long_.

Andor was effectively terrified by the time the chopper approached the wreckage. The smoke stack was visible from a hundred yards out, and as they got closer, he could see two people lying a safe distance from the plane. The soldier to his left squinted and said, "Is that a bow?"

"A bow?" Captain Nemes pushed to the open doorway of the helicopter, staring at the two hostiles. "Well, god damn. How about that, boys, we've found Hawkeye. And I'll bet my left arm that's Black Widow with him."

Andor tensed. Those two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were whispered legends at the base—he'd only been there a _week_ and he knew of their exploits. They said Hawkeye stuck to the shadows, killed swiftly, and vanished just as fast. But the Black Widow was worse; she infiltrated organizations just by batting her eyelashes and massacred everyone inside before she was done.

"You're lucky, kid," the older soldier said, strapping on an AK-47 as the copper landed. "They're too important to leave to a rookie."

"Apprehend, but do _not_ kill," Captain Nemes snapped as five more men armed themselves and poured from the chopper. "If one of them dies, _you_ die."

Andor ran with the front of the pack, feeling a thrill now that he had backup. This was better than he could have imagined. Not only was he going on a field mission with Captain Nemes, he was going to capture an infamous pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. assassins! The higher-ups wouldn't be able to ignore this. He might even get a promotion by the Commander himself.

The Widow was sitting beside her partner, watching them levelly. They slowed and formed a circle around the pair, and before anyone else could speak, Andor shouted, "Put your hands in the air!"

The older soldier narrowed his eyes at Andor, but the rookie was too wired to notice. The redhead turned to him and raised an eyebrow, but did as ordered. The man, Hawkeye, didn't move. He was pale and, peering closer, Andor thought his eyes were closed.

Andor nearly snorted. Some assassins. These two were barely a threat. He holstered his weapon and moved in to apprehend, just like he'd seen in the movies. In the next minute, the BlackWidow leapt and spun, and her heel slammed into his face.

_Pain_. _Shit, pain_, was all Andor could think as he dropped to the ground. He heard shouting and saw movement and in the next minute, the Black Widow was forced to the ground beside her partner, her head near Andor's. She caught his eye and winked. Then they hauled her off the ground and marched her back to the chopper.

Andor forced himself to shake it off, but his head swam when he stood. Damn, she hit _hard_. His face burned in embarrassment when the older soldier laughed, "And that's why we let you go first, meat."

He trudged back to the helicopter, narrowing his eyes at their one conscious prisoner. She smiled sweetly at him, as if getting captured was her whole plan, and he belatedly wondered if their base was next to feel the Widow's bite.

Then they threw Hawkeye into the chopper as well, and Andor shrugged off his thought. The archer was out. The Black Widow was subdued. What could they do?

So when Captain Nemes threw up his hands and said triumphantly, "Hail HYDRA," Andor gladly repeated the phrase.


	5. Chapter 5

**Budapest**

**Chapter 5**

"What?" Fury yelled, narrowing his eye at Maria Hill. "What do you mean, the jet crashed?"

"We have footage from the plane's camera," she replied steadily, frowning. It was never good news when two of their best agents dropped off the grid. "The enemy saw right through their reflection panels. The missile hit the right wing."

Fury drew a calming breath, but it didn't work. This was always a risk. His agents were equipped to deal with catastrophe. Still, he was worried. He looked at the satellite pictures of the plane's wreckage and thought that it'd be a miracle if they survived. "Any sign of our agents?"

"No, sir."

"Well, get someone down there to _check_."

"With all due respect, sir, that's a hostile area. Any other birds will just be shot down like the last one."

Director Fury rubbed his forehead. "I want a satellite video of the crash and the following hour afterwards. _Someone_ tell me if my agents are still alive."

Agent Hill nodded shortly, "Yes sir." She turned to the agents seated at the row of computers to her right and yelled, "You heard him. Find me video!"

"I already have, ma'am, but you aren't going to like it," a younger agent said, waving his hand to get their attention. He waited until both Fury and Hill were hovering over his shoulder before playing the clip. They watched wordlessly as the plane crashed into the rolling hills, smashing into a tree and crumpling in on itself. Hill shifted, and the younger agent cleared his throat. "Nothing happens for about ten minutes. Then we have this."

He pressed another button, and the video jumped forward. An explosion wracked the jet, and a few moments later a figure dragged someone else from the wreckage. Fury said, "Zoom in. Is that Agent Romanoff?"

"Yes sir," the younger agent confirmed, blowing up the image. "It appears Agent Barton is unconscious."

Fury let out a sigh of relief. Romanoff wouldn't bother pulling him from the crash if he weren't alive. Of course, that meant the pilot was gone. He shook his head in dismay and watched as she dropped Barton a safe distance off and returned to the plane. A second later, she skipped back again and another explosion rocked the jet.

"Smart," Hill remarked, nodding approval.

"She's the best for a reason," Director Fury replied, folding his arms.

Romanoff returned to Barton, and they watched as the archer tried to stand. Hill winced when he crumpled to the ground. The younger agent shifted and said, "They talk for a while longer. But this is what I really want you to see, sir."

He skipped the video again and played it when a military helicopter landed several feet away. Armed men leapt from the machine and sprinted towards their agents, and Fury snapped, "Pause."

The agent stopped the clip, and Hill squinted at the helicopter, "Enlarge that logo." She pressed a finger against the screen, pointing to the insignia on the chopper's side. The resulting image, though grainy, was perfectly clear to Fury and Hill.

"God damn it," Hill muttered, straightening. "HYDRA. I thought they were long gone."

"So did I," Fury's brows knitted together. "Apparently our intel is lacking."

"What are we going to do, sir?" She asked as the video continued to play, showing their two best agents being herded into an enemy helicopter.

Fury was silent for a moment, thinking through courses of action, before replying levelly, "Nothing."

"Sir?"

"Black Widow and Hawkeye are the best we have. Short of sending in a strike team, there's no one qualified to retrieve them. It would be a massacre to try."

"So we just leave them in the enemy's hands?" the younger agent injected in exasperation.

Director Fury looked steadily at the younger man, "Agent Romanoff has a specific skill set, and half of her talents are useless unless she's being held captive. She _let_ herself get captured, agent. Now we have to trust that she can fight her way out again."

* * *

****A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks. I got sidetracked with the start of Camp Nano. I'll be updating what I have written for this fic, but mostly I'm focusing on my personal novel now. Don't worry, though-I think I have 12 or so chapters of this just sitting on my hard drive, so you'll get a fair chunk.

Thanks for all the feedback, you lovely readers! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Budapest**

**Chapter 6**

The pain was nearly unbearable. Natasha had managed to reset her wrist, but she'd nearly passed out doing it. She'd wrapped it with a handkerchief stowed in her pocket, but it was a temporary fix at best. It throbbed mercilessly, and she could barely do more than rest her head against the cool stone wall and keep from whimpering.

They'd put Clint in the cell across from her and left. That had been more than an hour ago, but she wasn't so naïve as to think they'd left them unsupervised. She could see the camera in the corner of her cell and knew someone was glued to the screen, watching her every move. It was the only thing that kept her from cringing in pain—she wouldn't show weakness here.

Clint had been drifting in and out of consciousness. He needed a hospital, but they weren't exactly in the position to ask for a checkup. He undoubtedly had a concussion, and she itched to check him out herself, make sure his head had stopped bleeding.

So she decided it was time to get to work. With a huff, she pushed to her feet and signaled at the camera, putting her good hand on her hip. "Are you going to keep a lady waiting all day?" she yelled.

Sure enough, she heard footsteps just a minute later. A tall man with a cropped haircut strolled in front of her cell and folded his arms, "I wouldn't dream of it, Black Widow."

"Good," she replied steadily, forcing her speech to stay level even as her wrist throbbed. "You know who I am. I'm afraid I don't have the same privilege."

He regarded her carefully, "I am Captain Nemes."

"Really?" she laughed. "How convenient. You're just the person I came to see, Captain."

"Am I?" he drawled, unconvinced.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled at him, "Surely you know why I'm here."

"You had an unfortunate accident and landed in a restricted area."

"Hmm. Nope, that's not it," she said smoothly, strolling to the bars. "I sought you out, Nemes. Why do you think you saw our plane at all? S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't known for making such easy mistakes." She waited until his lip twitched acknowledgement before continuing, digging in the hook. "We came for _you_."

"You have the gall to threaten me in my own base? If I'm not mistaken, you aren't in prime shape," he said coldly, glancing at her wrist.

She shrugged a shoulder, ignoring the jab, "Not threaten. We have no quarrel with you, Captain Nemes. My colleague and I are merely here with a business proposition."

He narrowed his eyes, "How stupid do you think I am? I know of your reputation, _Black Widow_."

"Then you know," she said firmly, straightening, "that we work for hire. You know that I align myself with the biggest paycheck, and as of late, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't paying."

Doubt flickered over his features. It was brief, but it was there. She kept her face smooth, knowing that this was the moment where her ploy would either soar or crash and burn. Her tone softened, her words liquid honey sweetening the pot, "I'm not asking for your trust. I'll make this decision easy for you—the first kill is free. Just point, and I'll give you a nice trial demonstration."

Captain Nemes scoured her face, but she knew he saw no signs of deception. She had a spectacular poker face. Clint wouldn't play with her anymore, not after he lost five thousand that night in Hong Kong.

After a breath, Nemes said, "I will consider your offer." He turned to leave, but her eyes flickered to Clint, and she said sharply, "Captain."

He glanced back at her, expression stoic. She pointed at her partner, "He needs medical attention. He was hit wrong during the crash."

"You should have thought about that before flying over our airspace," Nemes said curtly.

She shrugged, "We had to make it look convincing, or you wouldn't have come to investigate so fast. Our time is valuable, and we don't spend it waving to get a client's attention." When he didn't move to leave, she knew he was considering her words. She continued, "We're a package deal, Captain. Put us in the same cell so I can help him. If he dies, my offer is gone."

Nemes scowled, but after a moment's consideration he signaled the cameras. The door to her cell clicked open, and he grabbed her arm forcefully and towed her across the hall. He threw her hard on the ground next to Clint. She cringed as her arm landed wrong, but the captain didn't seem to notice.

"I'll be back," he said, already sweeping down the hallway. The door locked automatically in his wake.

* * *

A/N: Natasha gets her "special skill" on. :P


	7. Chapter 7

**Budapest**

**Chapter 7**

She immediately turned to her partner, running her fingers over the back of his skull. His hair was matted with dried blood, but she was fairly confident that the wound had closed, which was a small blessing. She wiped her fingers on her jumpsuit and thought she should have asked for a bucket of water or something, but it was too late now.

"Hawkeye," she whispered, because they had codenames for a reason. She shook him. He groaned. When she didn't stop shaking him, he forced his eyes open and blinked blearily at her.

"Tash—"

"I'm okay," she said, cutting him off. She didn't know how good the microphones in the cells were, so she only stated what HYDRA already knew. "We're locked in a cell, but they're interested in our offer."

He stared at her, eyes unfocused, obviously confused, and she nudged him again, "You remember, don't you? I'm going to do a job for them to prove our new loyalties, but then we should be rolling in cash."

Realization flickered over his features, and after a moment to collect his thoughts, he managed, "Good. I hate being unemployed."

She breathed a sigh of relief, letting a real smile tilt her lips. Maybe he'd be okay after all. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s training in field medicine told her not to move him yet, so she situated herself by his head, careful to keep a bit of distance between them.

"How do you feel? The crash knocked you pretty hard."

The explosive arrow was what had split his head and given him a bump the size of a golf ball, but he kindly ignored that fact. Or maybe he simply didn't remember it. That sort of thing happened with head wounds. "I'm fine," he said, even though he sounded far from it. His blue eyes flickered to her. "You?"

"Good enough," she replied, forcing a light tone. Her wrist was still throbbing, and beads of sweat clung to her forehead as she tried to control the pain, but Clint didn't need to know that. "A few cuts, a couple bruises. Nothing major."

His eyelids dropped just a fraction in disbelief, and he whispered, "Nat," so softly that _she_ had a hard time hearing him.

She clenched her teeth. It was so easy to forget that he knew her just as well as she did him. But she still had the best poker face (which, in an agency of spies, was saying something), so she set her shoulders and insisted, "I'm fine, Hawkeye. Really."

He closed his eyes, and she wasn't sure if she'd fooled him or not. Sometimes when he got like this, she wondered if he could _always_ see through her. If, during those poker games, he simply humored her lies.

When he seemed unresponsive for a moment too long, she poked his shoulder again, "You slept enough. Eyes on me."

"You're doing a job for them?" he said quietly, blue eyes once again locking with hers. She positioned her head to block his face from the cameras and hoped that the microphones weren't that sensitive.

"Clint," she murmured. "Not here."

He ignored her, gaze pleading. "Don't, Natasha. You don't have to be that person again."

His words stung. She stared at him, swallowed the lump in her throat, and whispered, "I never stopped being that person." Then she straightened and flipped her hair, subtly motioning towards the camera in the corner. He glanced at it, and she knew he understood. He kept his mouth shut.

What he didn't understand was that she didn't have much of a choice. At this point, the job was a means to an end, a way to free them from this cage.

If worse came to worst, she'd hunt and kill their target, because once they let her roam their base, she'd kill each and every one of them too.

* * *

****A/N: I have to say, I'm dizzy with all the changes fanfiction is making. Mainly the pictures. First profile pictures, and now these story pictures... What happened to this being a website of words? XD

Not that I don't like the changes-putting the story summary at the top is genius. But man, I must be old school. :P


	8. Chapter 8

**Budapest**

**Chapter 8**

The Commander stroked his beard and stated, "She's playing you."

Captain Nemes pursed his lips, because of course he knew that. Out of respect, he nodded his head and said, "I understand, sir. But the fact remains that we hold two of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents, and one has offered to switch sides. This is an opportunity we can't afford to miss."

"She lies, Captain," the Commander said. "We let her free, and you know where she runs?"

"Her base," he answered grudgingly.

"Her base," the Commander agreed. "She will return with a greater force and attack. HYDRA isn't ready for a war with S.H.I.E.L.D., not yet. Not until those weapons are completed."

Captain Nemes acknowledged this. HYDRA was waiting on specially outfitted nuclear missiles. Their contractor had promised to deliver within a month, but the Black Widow could return with half of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best soldiers by then. The attack would be crippling.

The Commander settled back in his chair, "We've worked too hard, Nemes, to let a false step destroy everything. If we fail here, HYDRA will once again be a story, a myth."

"Yes sir." He paused, then braved to say, "Unless we use the Widow to our advantage. The mind-control serum—"

"Is merely in the testing phase," the Commander said, frowning.

"But the results are positive. It's working."

"It's unreliable."

Captain Nemes held back a frustrated sigh. The Commander was a man of proven science, guns and bombs and physical manipulation. He only saw the glamour of future technology, not the practicality.

"What else would you do with them, then? Gut their bodies and hang them publicly as a display to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Captain Nemes couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice, and the Commander's eyes narrowed. "With all due respect, sir, that's not the kind of attention we want to draw to ourselves either. Not yet, at any rate."

The Commander said, "Captain, I hope you have a point."

Nemes knew he'd better get to his soon if he wanted to see tomorrow. He squared his shoulders and repeated, "The mind-control serum. We administer it to the Black Widow and test its strength before unleashing her on our enemies."

Now the Commander looked mildly intrigued. "And how would you 'test' this serum?"

Nemes had thought carefully about this before calling an audience with the Commander. At this point, he was grateful he'd taken the time. The Commander was not accepting of poorly constructed plans.

"We tell her to kill her partner, Hawkeye."

Silence filled the room, and Nemes felt the need to expand, "The bond between them obviously runs deep, sir. If she won't kill him, we know it's a failure and we keep them in the prison bay. But if she _does_ kill him—"

"Then we lose half of our cards in one blow," the Commander snapped, pushing to his feet. Captain Nemes nearly took a step back, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Show no weakness. Show no mercy. Those were HYDRA's unspoken rules. He would not be intimidated.

"Sir, these cards won't do any good if they're locked underground. We have to _use_ them—"

"Have you no faith in my plans, Captain? Did you not swear your loyalty to me, to HYDRA, when you were recruited?" the Commander spat. "The prisoners will be tortured until they are hardly recognizable. They will indulge us all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. Then, once we have our missiles in hand, we will wave them as the flag to start the war, and HYDRA will again rise to glory!"

Captain Nemes drew a breath, narrowing his eyes. "They won't be so easily broken."

The Commander stepped forward and glared at the younger man, "They are not familiar with _my_ techniques. You are dismissed, Captain."

Nemes knew when to throw in the towel. Some battles had to be lost before one could win the war. He nodded his head respectfully and strode from the office, determination setting his brow as he headed for the laboratories.

The Commander, for all his impressive feats, was blind about what was really required to take down an agency like S.H.I.E.L.D. They had to try something new if they were ever going to avoid the mistakes of the past.

And the captain knew just where to start.

* * *

A/N: One more chapter, and that's all I have for you. I'll mention in the summary that it's been discontinued, and I apologize for my terrible inability to commit. I think I have ADD when I write, because I get very excited about new projects and ones like this utterly fall to the wayside. :(

Stay tuned, though, because the last one I have for you all has Clint and Natasha, and don't we all love them? :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Budapest**

**Chapter 9**

Natasha had just dropped into a fitful doze when Clint nudged her and said, "We have visitors."

"About time," she mumbled, forcing herself awake. Once it became clear that Nemes intended to make them wait a fair amount of time, they agreed to take watch in shifts, letting the other person catch some shuteye. She let her watch go a few hours longer than intended, but she was careful to wake her partner up every hour due to his concussion. Now, Clint was looking better and she was utterly exhausted.

But nothing could be done about that. She pushed to her feet, easing her swollen wrist to her side and wiping her face clean. Clint had seen her injury halfway through the night, and _that_ fight had been fun, but she'd finally managed to convince him it wasn't awful. Now she had to consciously keep a front for both HYDRA and her partner.

Captain Nemes strolled up to their cell, studying them carefully. Clint had graduated to a sitting position, but wasn't eager to stand yet. The position put him at a disadvantage, and Natasha didn't like the way Nemes was watching him, so she said, "Well, Captain? Have you thought about our offer?"

"I have," he replied steadily, his voice edged in steel. "Regrettably, I have to decline."

Clint tensed, but Natasha let out a sigh, "I'm afraid I don't bargain. You take my deal or we walk." She grinned fiercely, dangerously. "And trust me, Captain, we _will_ walk."

"Oh, I don't think your partner, at least, will be walking anywhere. But I do have a counteroffer for you."

Natasha had a bad feeling about this, but she motioned for him to continue.

Captain Nemes smiled and motioned for a small, hunched man to approach the cell, "I'd like you to meet my associate, Sanyi. He's a research scientist, one of the best in the world. He specializes in biochemical warfare."

_Yeah_, Natasha thought darkly. _Definitely not good._

"Sanyi has been working on a very exciting new weapon: mind control. Can you imagine the possibilities?" Captain Nemes sounded almost gleeful, but she could hear the edge to his voice.

Clint pulled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth and leaning heavily against the wall, "You've got to be kidding."

Nemes glanced at him and mused, "Oh, the bird speaks."

"This seems like an awful lot of effort, considering I was willing to work with you for free," Natasha mused, subtly motioning behind her for Clint to stay quiet. He specialized in battles. She specialized in conversation.

"Perhaps," Nemes said. "But you see, I don't trust you. I'm wary of the Widow's bite."

"Smart man," she said.

"Indeed. Sanyi, if you please?" Nemes took the syringe from the scientist, holding it to the light. He flicked the barrel twice. "Excellent. This delicate serum will render you under my complete control, Natasha Romanoff."

She frowned, and he met her gaze again, "Oh yes. I'm aware of your true names and your history. Initially, I was going to order you to kill Agent Barton here just for the fun of watching, but regrettably, that idea was overturned."

Clint's brows furrowed, and his eyes flickered towards Natasha. She snorted, a smirk spreading across her features as she bluffed, "You know what I think? I think that serum is still in development. It doesn't work."

Nemes scowled, good mood destroyed in an instant, "The serum is foolproof!"

"Touched a nerve, Natasha," Clint said, sounding amused.

He was right; in his replies, the captain had revealed a wealth of information. The serum _was_ still experimental, if he was so insistent that it worked, and his actions here weren't exactly condoned by his higher-ups. Natasha put her good hand on her hip. _Interesting_.

"You will be under my control," Nemes spat, and signaled at the camera. Within a second, three more men appeared, armed to the teeth. The cell door buzzed open, and two moved into the cell while the third kept an automatic trained on Natasha.

So it was Clint that lunged at the guards. He tackled one of them to the ground, but a sharp _bang_ ripped through the air as a shot was fired. Everyone stopped short, and Clint's eyes raked to his partner, scanning for a wound.

"I'm fine," she said, even as the second guard grabbed a hold of her arms and forced her against the wall. The guard underneath Clint pressed his AK-47 against the archer, and Clint stilled immediately.

"That was a warning shot," Nemes said, holstering his pistol, sounding more in control now. "Another move like that, and I don't care what the orders are. You will be killed."

With both of them subdued by the idea of a bullet in the heart, Nemes felt confident enough to stroll into the cell and approach Natasha. He bared the needle and pressed his cold hand against her neck to hold her steady.

"Careful now, or this could get messy."

"Natasha!"

"Silence him!" Captain Nemes snapped, and the guard holding Clint gripped his mouth roughly. Clint tried to fight back, but he didn't fare well. He was pale again, unsteady. _Too much movement too soon_, Natasha thought.

"Let him go," she said angrily. "I'm the one you want."

Nemes glanced back at her, "You only follow the first command after injection, and it won't be _his_. Do as you're told and you both may get through this alive." He chuckled and said, "Although, it's not like you'll have a choice."

Then he dug the needle into her neck.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Sanyi bit his lower lip and shifted his weight nervously, old eyes leveled on the redhead woman now cringing away from Captain Nemes. The captain grinned ferociously as he emptied the syringe into her, and when the serum was gone, he stepped back and dropped the needle on the floor.

"Natasha Romanoff," he said, and Sanyi held his breath. This was the moment of truth. He wrung his hands together. If she wasn't under the captain's control, Sanyi would be the first to die.

But Romanoff just looked up calmly and met his gaze with complacent green eyes. She stayed still, waiting, listening.

Her partner was furious, struggling again, but he was fading fast. Sanyi knew he wouldn't be a threat, at least not in this physical state. The guard kept a strong hold on him, and despite his muffled shouts, no words emerged.

Captain Nemes ignored them all, his grin growing sadistic, "There is a man in cell 31. _Kill him_."

And thank the Lord, the woman nodded once and walked from the cell, expression blank. She stepped over her partner, and he sank his teeth into the guard's hand, if the man's yelp said anything. The partner yelled, "Natasha!"

She didn't even look at him. Captain Nemes looked overrun with glee. Sanyi just felt the cold weight of momentary relief. He moved aside as Nemes strode to follow the assassin, pausing at the door only to say, "Bring Agent Barton along. I want him to see this."

The guards hauled the partner to his feet and pulled him after Romanoff. Sanyi contemplated returning to his lab—his part was over anyway—but he hadn't received a formal dismissal and didn't want to test Nemes' temper. Wringing his hands together again, he followed the procession.

Romanoff had stopped beside the designated cell. Her eyes landed on the man inside. He was leaning against the wall, and he pushed his glasses further up his nose when he saw them. Fear flashed across his face.

"What are you—" he began desperately. The door buzzed open. Romanoff stepped inside the cell, eyes hard, face blank. The man scrambled to his feet. "Oh, no, please no!"

"Natasha, don't!" the partner said, struggling again. The third guard pressed his rifle into the man's stomach, growling promise, and Barton glared.

Sanyi turned back to the cell. Romanoff hadn't taken her eyes off the poor man against the back wall. He looked like a decent guy, just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Sanyi felt a twang of guilt. _He_ had done this. When Romanoff killed this man, he was every bit at fault. Sanyi began chewing his lower lip again.

Romanoff advanced slowly, a predator's walk, and when the man realized what was going to happen, he lunged forward uselessly in one last stand. But his punch was wide, and Romanoff dodged easily, surging forward. She dug her fist into his stomach, and when he doubled over, she slammed her knee into his face.

She was favoring her left arm, keeping it firmly at her side as she attacked, and Sanyi recognized her swollen wrist. But even with one hand, she dominated the cell with deadly force, and it wasn't long before the poor man was sprawled on the floor. His nose bled freely, and he moaned.

Beside Sanyi, Barton moaned too, "No, Tasha, don't. Think!"

For a moment, she hesitated, poised over her kill. Then Nemes snapped, "Do it," and she slammed her heel into the man's neck. The sickening _crack_ made Sanyi cringe, and Romanoff straightened as if nothing was wrong.

Then she staggered, gasping, and blinked hard, her good hand going to her forehead. She looked blankly at the man she'd just murdered and said, "What… what just…? Oh, god."

Sanyi frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen. The serum was absolute. Obviously more testing had to be done, and Nemes wouldn't like that. The scientist swallowed.

"Restrain her!" Nemes said, and the guard not holding Barton leapt inside the cell. Impressive, actually, his unquestioning compliance, since Sanyi was fairly certain _he_ wouldn't step near this woman for any sum of money or status.

She yelped when the man grabbed her broken wrist wrong, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. Barton was watching her silently, blue eyes anguished, and at Nemes' signal the guards towed them both back down the hall.

"Thank you for your compliance, Black Widow," Nemes called, and the woman visibly cringed. Once they were out of earshot, he whirled on Sanyi, eyes narrowed. "What happened? She came back to her senses too early. At that rate, the serum will wear off before she makes it to her first target!"

Sanyi stepped back, reconsidering his earlier decision to ask for more time to test. He wasn't going to die over this. Thinking quickly, he lied, "She—she completed your order, Captain Nemes. The serum wears off once the command is carried out."

"Is that so?" Nemes drawled, smiling darkly again. "Well, that could be used to our advantage. I'll send her to kill the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and once she's standing over his body, she'll realize what she's done. Her people will never forgive her."

Sanyi remembered now why he'd never risen the ranks of HYDRA. He looked at the dead man in the cell and said, "Yes, Captain."

"I'm going to need more of that serum, Sanyi. Soon, if you please."

Sanyi bowed his head and finally retreated, feeling sick.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I lied, you get two final chapters. :P

Also, we may potentially have someone **adopting this story**. Username: Sinkme. S/he's awesome, so check out her/his other work! :D And stay tuned, because if s/he is so inclined, you'll get more updates after all. :3

Thanks, everyone! :D


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hey, everyone! Good news! The incredibly talented Sinkme (link on my profile, since I'm not tech-savvy enough to put it here) has offered to continue this fic. :D

What does that mean for you? Well, it means that you'll get brand new updates from a fresh viewpoint. They'll have her flair (which is awesome, because she rocks), but it's based off my original plot. She has all of my notes for this story. And I bet she'll update faster than I did. XD

* * *

THIS FIC WILL BE RELOCATED TO HER PROFILE. ONCE SHE POSTS HER NEW CHAPTER, I'LL BE DELETING THIS VERSION OF IT. The new version will have the original 10 chapters, along with whatever she writes.

* * *

Sinkme is the author of Origin of the Debt and Where One Goes, the Other Will Follow. Both are incredible, and if you've been milling around this fandom at all, I'm sure you've checked them out. (If not, get to it! :P ) I'm very excited that she's taking the time to continue my fic!

Thank you all for your time! Stay tuned for a brand new update! :)


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